


Straight through the heart

by Sashaya



Series: Wolf in sheep's clothing [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Killer Jake Park, Knives, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashaya/pseuds/Sashaya
Summary: "Are you seriously stalking me right now?"





	Straight through the heart

**Author's Note:**

> **_Disclaimer:_** _I don't own any of the characters._
> 
>  **Warning:** Un-beta'ed work. If you have to point out what mistakes I made, pop in at [SharkTofu](http://sharktofu.tumblr.com).
> 
>  
> 
> This is a crack relationship, since my bestest [Dżoda](https://zapisana.tumblr.com) is a Jake-main and she adores Michael Myers. Also, we are in love with the idea of the survivors becoming killers.

“Are you seriously stalking me right now?” Jake asks the should-be empty space behind him. His voice is laced with an impossible to hide happiness and there’s a blooming smile on his face, that keeps growing until it looks like it could split his face in two. 

Jake barely turns, a movement that looks more like a delicate shift than a complete change of view, but it’s enough for him to wink at the shape lingering in the doorway. The appearance of another person, while the Entity granted him a bit of seclusion to adjust to his new status, doesn’t stop him from meticulously organizing a variety of hand-me-down tools. 

Jake is far from impressed with the state of his new work tools. 

He eyes the butcher knife with distaste and weights it in his hand. It’s too big, even with his upgraded physique, and certainly not sophisticated enough. The scalpel on the far right looks much more inviting and handy, though, Jake is aware that weapon was better left for someone with a better understanding of human body. Not to even comment on how dirty all of the tools are. Judging by the crusted blood and some remains that could be brain matter clinging to the edges and even handles, he doubts that any of this has ever been cleaned. 

That’s just nasty. He doesn’t care that in theory they are all (possibly) dead – the insistent whispers in his head denies it, but he’s been here long enough not to trust them outside of a hunt – he’s been human long enough to worry about the lack of hygienic in his work-place. Well, at least with his tools, because he can’t say he minds the rest that much. 

Only one thing really catches his eye. There’s a some kind of a sickle on a chain, covered in rust and clearly forgotten, but surprisingly clean in comparison to the rest of the tool. The thing, _kusarigama_ as the Entity insists on calling it, is heavy in Jake’s hand, but it’s perfect. The blade is sharp, which Jake can feel for himself as he runs his finger along the edge, drawing blood. The rust has to go, but underneath Jake is almost certain is high-class steel – durable and nearly indestructible. The metal chain ends with a heavy iron weight and Jake can already imagine the sound of cracking bones, screams of pain, when the ball connects with the target. 

He can’t help the dark, barely audible chuckle that escapes him. There’s no hiding such glee. 

It takes him a few more silent seconds, spent on criticizing the rest of the blades presented to him, before he finally fully turns to face the silent observer. 

“Give me your knife,” Jake commands. His face is a mix of expressions – from sadistic joy, through displeasure, to plain curiosity. A real carousel of emotions, that wouldn’t bode well for most people. Thankfully, Michael Myers is not like most people. Mostly, because he’s not quite human, certainly more like a predator than prey. “I know you have your favorite on you. Chop, chop.”

The order is met with silence. Michael tilts his head to the left in response, watching Jake with unmoving eyes. The white mask seems to be glowing in the darkness of the Myers’ basement, adding to the eeriness of the forever silent Haddonfield residential area. 

Usually this – the mask, the silence, the impressive height and build – is enough to terrify even a zombie-war veteran, but Jake remains unimpressed and unmoving. He doesn’t take his eyes of Michael, his dark irises fixed on the mask, like he’s waiting for a tick of a muscle.

“Come on dear,” Jake shoves his hand towards Michael, palm up in a universal sign of _I come in peace_ and _Give me_. He takes a few steps, somehow judging on how close he can get to the man. “You know I won’t take it away. I just want to see if it needs cleaning, like the rest,” he gestures towards the cluttered desk, where the rest of the melee weapons waits for someone to pick them up. 

He doesn’t get a real answer, but he also didn’t expect it. It’s enough for Jake, when Michael lets out a muffled, heavy sigh and reaches into his blue overalls. He pulls out a sharp, about eight inches long cooking knife and raises it above his head, like he’s about to stab Jake. He takes a step forward. Brings his hand down. 

The tip of the knife stills barely an inch away from Jake’s left eye. The man doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. Jake just keeps impassively staring at Michael. He raises his left brow, schooling his face into an expression of total lack of awe or impressiveness. 

“Show off,” Jake breathes out, rough and heavy, but there’s no hint of fear in his voice. 

Michael pulls the knife closer to himself and slowly lowers the armed hand, until the knife points towards Jake's heart. He doesn’t let go of it, curling his fingers around the handle protectively. 

“Will you run like a scared kitty, if I try to touch it?” Jake asks, amused by Michael’s protective behavior towards his knife. Jake takes the offended silence as a permission to inspect the weapon. 

He leans in closer and puts his hand on Michael’s, carefully and gently maneuvering it so he can check the knife out thoroughly. Jake hums with appreciation and presses a tender kiss to Michael’s thumb.

He takes a step back, reluctantly letting go of Michael’s hand. The man stares a few seconds at Jake’s retreating arm, but doesn’t make a move to close the short distance between them. He carefully places the knife inside his overalls and lets go only, when it’s secured. 

“It’s perfect,” Jake says, awe and something warm coloring his voice. “I’m very impressed,” he admits, shooting a genuine smile Michael’s way. He turns back to the desk, gingerly running a hand along the kusarigama’s length. His eyes soften, along with his expression, though it’s far from angelic. The Entity’s whispers fill the room, seemingly pleased with the imagined bloodbath taking place inside Jake’s mind.

There’s a sudden movement and Jake is forcefully turned, the kusarigama clattering loudly to the ground. Jake hisses, a low and dangerous sound, in response to the painful grip on his arm. 

“Mike, baby, I could destroyed it!” Jake snarls, almost feral, but clinging to the snippets of his humanity as not to try to hurt Michael. The man could take him on, without a doubt, but Jake really doesn’t want to see, which one of them would come out on top, if they let their bloodlusts rule. 

Michael keeps the hurting grasp on Jake, but leans down to gingerly pick up the kusarigama. He lays it down carefully on top of the desk and makes sure the chain won’t slip, bringing the weapon down again.

Michael doesn’t reign in his strength and pulls Jake to himself with all his might. The smaller man crushes into Michael’s chest with a painful cry and a swift kick to Michael’s kneecap. It’s not enough for Michael to let go, but he lessens his grip greatly. 

“Mike, sweetheart,” Jake’s voice is sweet as a honey, every letter dripping with a fake pleasantness. “Please tell me you didn’t almost destroy my beautiful kusarigama, because you were jealous? I suspect not, because you are a very intelligent man – also creepily possessive of your own knife, so you would know how very displeased I would be with your irrational behavior,” by the end of his tirade, Jake is snarling like a wild dog, ready to attack and kill without hesitation. 

Michael shakes his head slowly, expressing that was certainly not the reasoning behind his actions. Jake sighs, his expression relaxing and becoming more human again. He leans his weight on his partner, running his fingers over the hidden knife, and idly wondering if he would be quick enough to grab it and slash Michael’s throat, since he rarely uses his voice box. 

“I want a make-up present then,” Jake decides, letting his arm fall along his body. Michael’s chest vibrates, like the man is laughing at him, and Jake scowls. He raises his head and catches Michael’s eyes. “Bring me something shiny, baby.”

They both freeze, when the Entity starts whispering into their ears. Promises of a hunt and helpless prey coiling like venomous serpents inside their minds.

“Work calls,” Jake sighs and gently pats Michael’s left cheek. He presses a gentle kiss to the mask’s lips and winks playfully. “Can’t say I’m not jealous, but I will happily watch the master at work. On his home turf, nonetheless.”

Jake pulls away and allows the ink-black arms of the Entity to envelop his body. He sends Michael a kiss, his eyes sparkling with glee. 

“Give them hell, baby,” he says, before the Entity raises him above Haddonfield and leaves him there – with a perfect view of the impending massacre. 

He cradles the kusarigama in his arms, like a precious treasure, and smiles with dark eyes, and sharp teeth.

The hunt is on and he has the best seat in the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Kusarigama looks like [THAT](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/tmnt/images/2/25/2190900-kusarigama.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120617055958). Dżo wanted Jake's weapon to be related to his saboteur perk/hooks (so I didn't spend half of my day looking for something suitable). 
> 
> I live on comments, even more than kudos. Please leave both on your way out!


End file.
